Blood Will Turn the Snow Red
by That Creative One
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras have had a healthy relationship for several months. But when Grantaire slips back into the habits of self-harm and alcohol abuse, the "healthy" relationship begins to crumble. Grantaire is convinced Enjolras is better off without him, and Enjolras is stressed to the breaking point with thoughts of guilt. When Grantaire lands in the ER, it may break them both.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi there! If you've read any of my other stories, you know I constantly write h/c and fluff. I really wanted to take a break from that and explore a couple of the angst plot bunnies I've got floating around in my head. I'm not going to spoil anything, but there are some triggers in here: cutting, alcohol, self-abuse, (references to) suicidal thoughts/actions. Some of these may or may not pop up, but if you're uncomfortable with any of the above mentioned- DO NOT READ THIS FIC. Also, as a rule of thumb, if I really want you to read the author's note, I'll bold it like it is now, because it means I've got something important for you to see- in this case, the trigger warnings. Otherwise I'll simply put it in italics.**

Enough of my rambling, onto the story!

Oh~ one last thing! Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables, and I didn't own it the last time you asked either.

~~~Look a pagebreak!~~~

Enjolras was starting to get worried.

It had been over four hours since Enjolras's boyfriend, Grantaire, had left. Grantaire had been acting oddly for a couple of days, and when Enjolras had asked where he was going, he had only said, "Out." before leaving without another word. Others assured Enjolras it was nothing, that a painting wasn't turning out quite right, or things like that. Small things that might get under Grantaire's skin. Nothing big.

So Enjolras tried to convince himself of these things, reminding himself of other times his boyfriend's art wasn't going well and how he had displayed a similar reaction, but he just couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't right with Grantaire.

Enjolras shoved the feeling aside and tried to keep himself busy. He only had morning classes the next few days, so the afternoons were spent studying or reading. Enjolras sighed and set down his pencil; no matter how much he tried to focus on the economic divide of the country, his thoughts kept drifting back to Grantaire.

Where is he? Why has he been acting strangely? Is it something I did? Questions swirled unrelentingly around in Enjolras's head until the economic divide of France was the absolute last thing on his mind. For a while, Enjolras pondered these questions, trying to draw a conclusion to the whereabouts of his boyfriend, until he glanced at the clock and saw it was past 10 o'clock. Knowing he had classes in the morning, the blonde forced the questions away once more and decided to call it a night.

Sleep didn't come easily, but once it did, Enjolras almost slept through the insistent ringing of his cell phone.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Enjolras picked up his phone and squinted at the bright screen. It took him a moment to register Grantaire's number, but once he did Enjolras sat up quickly enough to leave him dizzy. "Grantaire? What's going on?" Enjolras asked frantically, a number of bad scenarios flowing through his mind already.

"Enjolras?" The voice on the other end of the line was quiet and shaking. "Can you come pick me up?"

"Where are you?" Enjolras asked, running out of bed and grabbing his keys and shoes, not even bothering to get a jacket.

The voice on the other end of the line suddenly burst into tears. "Enj, I'm so sorry, I-I couldn't help it, I was d-drunk and i-it was laying there so I j-just did it- it's small, I s-swear, it's j-just a s-small cut on the b-back of my wrist, y-you can barely see it, I'm so s-sorry Enjolras, I'm so sorry, it just h-happened, I t-tried not to..." Grantaire's voice trailed off into a series of choked sobs.

Enjolras knew vaguely of his boyfriend's history of alcoholism, but he had quit months ago. Alarms started going off in the blonde's head as he climbed into his car. Static crackled in his ear as he spoke in a low, what he hoped was calm voice. "R, please calm down, it's going to be okay. Just tell me where you are." He hoped using his partner's nickname would help his relax a bit.

The connection was failing slightly now. "I-I'm so s-sorry, Enjolras, I'm s-so sorry." Grantaire's voice gasped once more before the call ended.

~~~  
A/N: I know it's short, but I'll try to update soon. Constructive criticism is wonderful and reviews are magical and taste like Pop-Tarts. Thanks for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm so sorry about the long update gap, but I updated! Yay! Tomorrow is my last day of school, so hopefully updates will come more frequently. I'm still adapting to writing dark stuff like this, so if you have any pointers, I would be very greatful! I'm also sorry about the shortness, hopefully the next one will be longer. I don't have the entire thing planned out, but I think this will be around five or six chapters, maybe more. I kind of want it to be a long one, but tell me what you think! Also, reviews and constructive criticism are magical and taste like Pop-Tarts, so please review! Thanks for reading :)  
Enough of my rambling, onto the chapter!

Enjolras slammed his cellphone on the dashboard after hearing Grantaire's voicemail for the third time. After the first call had failed, the artist hadn't picked up or replied to any of Enjolras's relentless texts. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the blonde drove towards a bar in the shadier part of town, one of Grantaire's favorites. Since Grantaire hadn't given Enjolras an exact location, he was hoping with all his heart his boyfriend would be there.

He managed to get to the bar in six minutes, thanks to Enjolras's quick driving, which was in no possible way legal. After pulling into an empty parking lot, a dark shape caught the revolutionary's eye. If he squinted, it looked like someone sitting against the building.

He leapt out of the car and dashed over to the figure, who turned out to be no one less than the raven-haired artist Enjolras had been looking for.

"Grantaire!" Enjolras cried out in relief, sinking onto his knees next to his boyfriend.

The cynic looked up at Enjolras with bloodshot eyes. "E-Enjolras?" His voice cracked pitifully.

"'Taire," Enjolras breathe caught in his throat when he saw his lover's appearance. His curly black hair was tangled and tear trails glistening on his cheeks. He embraced his boyfriend, causing Grantaire to wrap his arms around Enjolras and fall against him in one swift motion.

"I'm so sorry," Grantaire choked out before a sob wracked his body.

Enjolras hugged Grantaire tighter and whispered to him, "It's alright. You're fine. You're going to be okay."

"I'm not fine," The artist whimpered, sniffing miserably. "I'm just a useless burden. I'm a pathetic drunk and I can't do anything right. I don't deserve you. You s-should be with someone b-better, s-someone as a-amazing and w-wonderful as you. Y-you shouldn't b-be c-comforting me, you should be w-walking away." Even through the gasping sobs, the self-disgust in Grantaire's voice was evident.

"Grantaire," Enjolras gasped, tears burning his eyes, "Please don't think that of yourself. You are strong and wonderful and talented, and I love you with all my heart. There's no one else I would rather be with. You aren't pathetic or useless, and I don't know who made you think that, but they are sorely mistaken."

He pulled away from his boyfriend and cupped his hand under his chin, tilting Grantaire's head up and forcing him to make eye contact. "You are not a useless burden and you are not a pathetic drunk, not by a long shot. Don't think of yourself negatively, R." He wrapped his arms around his lover once more and said, "I love you."

The raven-haired boy made no response, only sobbed harder. Enjolras hugged him closer, feeling tears trickle down his own pale cheeks. Whenever Grantaire talked negatively about himself, every word was like a dagger digging into his heart.

"I c-cut again," Grantaire whispered. Shame burned inside of him that he was so weak in front of his lover.

"It's alright," Enjolras replied, stroking Grantaire's black curls. "It's going to be okay. I want to help you, 'Taire."

Grantaire only nodded mutely. After a few minutes, Enjolras asked Grantaire if he was ready to go, and after another nod, the pair was in Enjolras's car, driving back to their flat. The blonde was filled with worry, wondering what had suddenly caused this mood change in his boyfriend and wondering how he could help. However, the cynic was filled with self-disgust, wondering how such a wonderful person like Enjolras could live with a miserable burned like himself.


	3. Chapter 3

For a while, Grantaire simply stared at himself.

His reflection stared back at him, unblinking and unmoving. He tried to see what Enjolras saw in him.

Curly black hair that hadn't seen a pair of scissors in ages, scarred skin, sunken eyes dulled by alcohol. Wrists decorated with straight slashes.

_I want to help you_, Enjolras had told him. This dumbfounded Grantaire. Clearly, Enjolras didn't know a lost cause when he saw one. But then again, this is Enjolras we're talking about. So full of light, full of hope and determination. What could have possibly brought him to even notice the drunk cynic known as Grantaire, much less fall in love with him?

_I want to help you._

_Your own boyfriend thinks you're a charity project now_, Grantaire thought bitterly. Dark thoughts swirled around his head the longer he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. The lack of light was starting to hurt his eyes, but the artist gladly accepted the pain. _I'm a broken machine, and he's the mechanic. He'll fix me and find someone else._

Personally, Grantaire thought that Enjolras should simply dump him like the worthless piece of trash he was and find someone who deserved him.

_Of course, he'll still try to fix me, because he's Enjolras. He tries to help people- that's what he does. And what do you do?_ Grantaire asked himself. _You poison yourself and nothing more. You make the world just a bit darker. It's people like you Enjolras despise. He probably hates you. Right now, he's probably dreaming of the day he can pack up and leave._

Grantaire's hands were shaking as he picked up the razor from the edge of the tub, not with fear, but with anger. He gripped the navy blue plastic handle and held it over his wrist.

_Worthless_. A line of red appeared.

_Burden._ Another joined it, along with a searing pain. Grantaire longed to feel more of it.

_You don't deserve him. Enjolras deserves a partner who will make him truly happy, not having him driving around, looking in bars for his drunk of a boyfriend at two am. He went looking for love and got stuck with you._

By now, Grantaire's arm was covered in crimson. Blood dripped onto the sink, onto the floor. It soaked his sleeve.

_You're a pathetic excuse of a person. You're a burden to everyone around you. It's probably a relief to everyone when you finally drag your drunk ass home and leave them alone._

Black spots danced around the edges of the artist's vision. His ears rang from blood loss. Faintly, he realised the hallway light had been turned on and footsteps were pounding towards him. His hand was shaking so badly he almost dropped the razor.

He pressed the blade to his broken skin once more. He barely had time to think one word before he blacked out.

_Worthless._

_A/N: I'm not quite sure what to say about this chapter. It was surprisingly easy to write (which scares me a bit), and I was able to write the entire thing in one go. It took me around fifteen minutes, actually. I wonder how quick I would be able to write these chapters if I didn't procrastinate so often._

_I don't write dark themes often, so I'm not sure if this chapter was realistic in terms of Grantaire's thinking or just turned out stereotypical, poorly written attempts at angst._

_Gosh, I haven't updated this thing in forever! Sorry about my procrastination. I'm staring a day camp tomorrow at the local community college, so updates may or may not come quickly._

_In regards to other stories: I've selected three stories that I'm going to try super hard to finish before I work on or start anything else. Those stories are You've Got To Be Kidding me, Rules of the Stark Tower, and Blood Will Turn The Snow Red. I don't exactly have the ending planned for any of these, but I hope to get some updates for them soon._

_Last thing, I promise- I'm starting an original series. That's right, an ORIGINAL SERIES. I didn't even think those two words could co-exist in my mind until I picked up a Dear America book at our local library and decided to start a modern Dear America. For those of you who don't know what Dear America is, it's a series of historical novels from actual people, revolving around a time in their lives that also affected history. The one I read was about a Sioux girl whose land was sold to the Americans, so she had to adapt to their lifestyle. I think she later became a Sioux teacher or something, not quite sure. Point is, I'll be writing a series of realistic fiction diaries from the point of view of people struggling with unique situations that aren't really that unique in real life. For example, someone who has a family member with a terminal illness, someone struggling with an eating disorder, someone whose family is in poverty, etc. I might post them on Quotev or Wattpad- I'll let you know if I do._

_Wow, that was a Magna Carta of an author's note. Enough of my rambling. Thanks for reading and please review :)_


	4. Chapter 4

"Grantaire!" Enjolras sprinted into the bathroom just in time to see his boyfriend collapse, his shirt sporting a deep red stain. A navy blue razor tumbled from his hand onto the floor, which was slick with blood.  
He dashed forwards and caught Grantaire by the shoulders as he fell, kneeling with him so Grantaire's head was in Enjolras's lap. The blonde's eyes frantically darted over his unconscious partner's body. He choked back a sob when he saw the source of the blood.  
"Grantaire," Enjolras gasped as he hugged his boyfriend's head to his chest. The artist's arm had deteriorated to mutilated flesh and gushing wounds. He would need stitches without a doubt.  
Enjolras's hand shook as he pulled out his phone to dial 9-1-1.  
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" A female voice answered immediately.  
"My boyfriend was c-cutting," Enjolras stammered, blinking back tears, "He- he passed out i-in the bathroom. H-his arm is bleeding badly."  
"Is the patient breathing?"  
"Y-yes," Enjolras answered, staring at Grantaire's rising and falling chest like his breathing would stop if Enjolras looked away.  
"Enj...?" Grantaire murmured. His eyes fluttered open, dulled and glassy from blood loss.  
"R," The blonde gasped. He let out a breathe he didn't know he had been holding. "He's awake," He informed the operator. You could taste the relief in his voice if you tried hard enough.  
"That's good, you're doing very well." The operator said in a soothing voice. "I need you to stay on the line. Okay?"  
"O-okay," Enjolras choked back another round of sobs as he caught a glimpse of the ever-growing pool of blood beneath his boyfriend.  
"Tell me your name, hon."  
"Enjolras." Grantaire stirred slightly at the sound of his lover's name.  
"Okay, Enjolras, you're doing great. I need you to take your boyfriend's pulse. Do you know how to do that?"  
"Y-yes."  
"Good. I'm not going to ask for a beats pee minute, just see if you can feel a pulse."  
Enjolras pressed two shaking fingers to Grantaire neck. "Enj..." He slurred.  
"I'm here, baby. You're going to be fine," Enjolras whispered to him. To the operator, he said, "I can feel a pulse."  
"Good, that's very good. We sending paramedics over right now, okay? In the meantime, I need you to look at the cuts. Is the blood bright red and coming out in spurts?"  
"N-not spurts," Enjolras answered, swallowing back the nausea rising in his throat. "More like pulses. But it is bright red a-and bleeding a lot,"  
"It's possible that an artery has been severed. Enjolras, you need to stop the bleeding. Take a towel, shirt, or any clothing article and fold it as thick as possible. Okay, Enjolras?"  
"Alright," Enjolras said once he had a plush white towel folded in his hands. "What do I do next?"  
"Place the bandage on the cuts and press as hard as possible. Use both hands, and put all your weight on it." The operator instructed. Enjolras shifted the phone and pinned it between his ear and shoulder. He placed the towel on Grantaire's wrist and pressed on it as hard as he could, praying it wouldn't hurt Grantaire further.

Grantaire stirred slightly, discomfort showing on his face. "Baby, I'm so sorry," Enjolras whispered as fresh tears ran down his cheeks.  
Time lost meaning to him as the towel soaked through. He was reaching for another when he heard his front door open.  
Enjolras hadn't even heard the sirens, but there were suddenly two paramedics in the tiny room, putting Grantaire on a gurney.  
The sky had opened up over the city, resulting in the delay of the emergency vehicles, but Enjolras followed them out to the ambulance anyway. A pretty young lady was explaining to him why he couldn't get in the ambulance with Grantaire, but her words were lost.  
All he could do was pray that Grantaire was still alive.

A/N: So, it's been a while...okay, before you break out the pitchforks, let me explain.

As of right now, and at least for the next month, I will be stuck on mobile. I'm actually writing all my stories in a PM box, since my Windows phone doesn't allow me to use Google Drive, where all of my documents are, or any sort of writing app. I can't even download things with this.

However, I will continue writing. I have quite a few new stories planned, mainly for the Marble Hornets/Creepypasta fandom. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review :)


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